


Frozen bloodshed

by Cyanidal



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Injury, Hitman AU, Hitman Iskall, Iskall-centric, Kinda?, Like really its just implied, Minor Character Death, Permadeath, Really I just wanted to write details about editing world mechanics, Remember this is just minecraft personas not real people, and this seemed a perfect way to, dont do that shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyanidal/pseuds/Cyanidal
Summary: "There was always something beautiful in the destruction. It was like it called to him, beckoning him forth. And like a blind sheep, he followed it without question. He was in too deep, this path of chaos something engraved in him as far back as he could remember."
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Frozen bloodshed

**Author's Note:**

> I read two Hitman AUs for Iskall and I thought I'd jump on this bandwagon. I kinda want to write a whole story around this, like maybe not this EXACT universe, but the same concepts. I don't know, I guess we'll see. For now, take this thing that I wrote at like 3am.

There was always something beautiful in the destruction. It was like it called to him, beckoning him forth. And like a blind sheep, he followed it without question. He was in too deep, this path of chaos something engraved in him as far back as he could remember. 

He was a feared man, stories of his endless slaughterings spread far and wide across the varying servers. Nobody knew who he was really, only what he did. In a way this was better for him, keeping his secret safe. Even so, very few believed the myth of “the destroyer of worlds.” A menacing name for a man so simple. 

Amongst themselves, players would share the tale of this lone wolf who could take a server down from the inside out. People would shake their heads in disbelief and a few would even huff in annoyance. For as well known as he was, he wasn’t well believed. Of course, that made the destruction all the more fun. 

It was easy for him, a pattern that worked without fail. He’d find a server, large or small, and join it as a new player. Sometimes he was even invited to private servers through server-wide events to make friends. With fake smiles and shallow laughs, he’d weasel into the group. In his travels he’d picked up a number of skills - he’d assist players with their Redstone work, give tips and opinions on buildings, participate in harmless prank wars, even joining a few casual PVP matches from time to time. Soon enough he’d fit right in with them all, a part of their family as they’d call it. People have a tendency to be sentimental, and that's always their downfall. 

The majority of servers had hybrid members, whether part mob, unknown creature, mechanical, or anything else from the imagination. The panel fit over his eye never stuck out and nobody ever asked about it - there were far more extraordinary things about other players to ponder over. That’s when the hard work would begin. Lines of filtered code spread across the panel, scrolling as he searched for what he needed. No matter how secure a server's admin claimed it was, there was always backdoor access to the very heart of the code. No server ran without a failsafe, some were just more secure than others. 

Once in, not much would change at first. The longest part of it all was encrypting a new access point and removing the old one. This would allow him an area to run commands and edit lines of code without catching the admin's eye. It was easy but grueling, especially while continuing to keep up the facade. The shortest it’d ever taken him was a week, the longest was a tiring 6-months. Of course, that’d been a server-based around community projects, so alone time was hard to come by. Nevertheless, he stayed true to his goal.

The fun part was screwing with the server properties. Interrupting day/night cycles, enhancing mob AI’s, increasing the number of lag spikes internally, anything and everything. If an admin was too good at their job he’d plan accordingly around an incoming update to be safe. They would assume it was bugs that had been implemented and set to work fixing them without a second thought. No matter how hard they tried though, no one had ever been able to stop or undo what he’d done. The admin would work themselves to exhaustion, gaining the eyes of concern from their players.

The final steps were simplest to him, changing the player properties of everyone but himself. Once a specific string of code was added to the end of their individual coding the server would detect them as a bug upon their next attempt to respawn and eliminate the threat. Another few lines in the global server properties and the server would be set to self-destruct, convincing itself that it needed to operate a full-scale wipe to erase the problem. By the time it went off, he’d be long gone.

Few people could reverse the effects once it reached that point, but it wasn’t impossible. To prevent this, he’d take out the admin personally. That was always fun…

The admin would be found wherever they’d made their access point’s hub. Typically, this was in their personal base, but he could track coordinates should he need to. Typing away at their keyboard, he’d sneak in and shut the door behind him. Of course, an admin's reflexes were always sharp, turning toward the door quickly expecting a threat. Upon seeing him they’d relax, opening their mouth to ask what he needed. They never got that far. A harsh footstep, a clang of metal, and a muffled gasp followed in mere seconds. 

The sword was plunged deep in their abdomen, mouth covered by a gloved hand to prevent as much noise as he could. Pain, confusion, and betrayal were clear in their eyes, certainly wondering why they hadn’t poofed into a respawn. He’d grin as he pulled out his sword, blood spraying as the admin cried out from under his hand. They’d scrabble at his hand, attempting anything to save themselves, but there was nothing to be done. This was the reason for implementing the bugs to exhaust the admin, and it always paid off. 

Never removing his hand, he’d lean down toward their ear in their final moments, whispering to them the number their world made on his list. The delight came from the panic and realization that would fill their eyes. It all came back to the fact that everyone knew the stories, they just refused to believe them.

He was the last sight the poor admin would ever see; blood splattered across a face with no remorse, grinning at them in their final moments with a blood-smeared sword resting over a shoulder. He wished he could know what their final thoughts were, but that was a mystery that belonged to only the universe itself.

Ä̵̧̤̩̣̣͖̥̗́̾͗̔͜ͅd̵̙̙̗̩̈́͐͛̿͒͝m̸̧̯̮͇̎̈́̔̋i̸̡̨̤͔͚̳͚͋̋̎͐̇̉̈̽́̚̕͜n̷̨̧̻̫̮̲̟̗̜͇̍̀͜ has died.

The chat would light up with confusion, asking for confirmation from their beloved admin if they were okay. No response would ever come through again, the body resting right where he’d left it. He’d teleport all to the room with the panels, a countdown running on the screens. Even those had blood on them now..

He’d never stick around to see their reactions though. For as much of a monster as he was, he refused to witness the emotional devastation of the players. One could almost say he felt bad for them, but that wasn’t true either. In any case, he’d flee to the hub quickly, leaving the server behind. Once the countdown hit zero, it’d be over for them anyway. They’d ceased to exist, banished to the endless void for their final moments as they fell victim to his schemes. 

It’d been simple for so long, it was all he could remember. He’d racked up a large server count, losing track long ago of the player counts. It was easy, fun almost, to continue down this path. Until now.

He sat on top of a large man-made slime, watching as two familiar forms flew overhead. One wore a red sweater you could never mistake and the other a business suit that everyone knew. Down below he could hear various voices drifting on the wind, chatting about everything and anything all muffled together. He froze as he heard someone land behind him, not relaxing even as their admin sat down beside him with a warm smile behind his visor. 

“Hope you don’t mind me joining you, it’s quite lovely up here, isn’t it?”

He nodded silently, looking off into the distance. It took everything not to jump as a hand fell on his shoulder, convincing him to turn to the admin. His eyes met ones filled with concern behind tinted purple.

“Are you alright Iskall? You’ve been awfully distant lately.”

No, he wasn’t alright. Far from it. But he couldn’t tell Xisuma that. He couldn’t tell Xisuma that no, he wasn’t alright, because it’s been years now. Years of telling himself that it’s just another job, just another server. It never mattered though. One look at the faces of these people, these hermits, who smiled at him with true care and adoration and his pleas with himself fell apart. So he smiled at their dear admin next to him, facade falling into place.

“Oh I’m good, just been busy ya know? Too many leaves on that tree.”

Xisuma chuckled at that, smiling easily at the swede, “Right right, I get that. I don’t know how you aren’t going crazy with all of them. How do you do it?”

“I don’t. It’s more staring at the boxes and hoping they’ll put themselves up.”

Xisuma huffed softly, patting him on the back as he stood, “Maybe if you stare harder they will. Right well, I need to be off, I just wanted to check on you. Shoot me a message if you need anything or to just talk. You know where to find me.” He gave a mock salute as he took off in a shower of rockets, startling Grian and Mumbo who both faltered in their sky chase. Grian recovered first, smacking Mumbo with the tag in his hand. Iskall could hear the man's sputtering and the smaller mans laughter from where he sat. 

85, that was his current count. It’d been years since that number had moved, and he wasn’t sure why. Iskall groaned, dragging a hand down his good eye. For as long as he’d been with these people, he’d never even made it to the backdoor access. Not because he couldn’t, bringing up the code would show him right where it was. Iskall just couldn’t convince himself to do it, closing out with a frustrated groan each time. 

People had come and gone in the years he’d been here, but they’d all made an impact. Changed him one could say. If he closed his eyes he could see nothing but their warm eyes and something that each stood out for in his mind. Grians bright laughter, Mumbos warm hugs, Xisuma’s kind advice, Stress and her playful companionship, Scars selflessness, and everyone else he’d ever known that stuck out in his mind for their own reasons.

Iskall laid back on top of his shop, hands resting behind his head. Unless he told them, they’d never know. But even now, he knew he wasn’t worthy of their affection, to be a part of their family. There was blood on his hands, far more than anyone could ever even guess. He thinks it would be better if he followed through but just thinking of Xisuma’s blood on his hands and the look of horror on the beloved admins face makes him feel sick. 

He sighs, closing his eyes as the sun beams down on him with ferocious heat. One day he’d have to make a choice; leave without a trace or up his count. Iskall can feel his heart crack as the faces of the hermits flash behind his eyes, pain and tears visible in their own eyes as they see him standing over what's left of Xisuma, blood smeared across his face and torso. He lets out a sad sigh as he allows the images to dissipate.

One day, he’d have to make the difficult decision, but that day was not today. The blood on his hands remains dry as the heavy tears run wet down his face.


End file.
